Hands
by Stephelicious
Summary: ...He had been given a task to complete, and complete it he must, he had no time to understand her story, how captivating and enlightening it may have been....


Unseeing eyes taking in mere glimpses of passing oak and pine, merging into a green mass of blur. Guilty palms caressing the hard wheel beneath sweaty dripping fingers, clasped in an unwavering hold on some sort of control or security mind absorbed in undying, agonizing thoughts and recent memories. Flashes of flush cheeks and passion filled eyes, fading into completely different eyes in more than one way that he couldn't understand; those of fear, pain and unknowing agony.  
  
He was reminded of how this whole situation began by a mere bend in the seemingly endless straight of this once enticing road.  
  
He was having an affair. His wife at home, this vixen in his bed. He tried to stop, he sincerely did but she kept drawing him, calling him back to her , back to the cabin by lake, under the pretense of 'business meetings'. He knew it had to stop. He loved his wife dearly. She was his world. He kept convincing himself that it would only be one last night with his 'pleasure princess', one last night of being enthralled in this tangled web of deceit and untruthfulness, but this last night never seemed to pass.  
  
It hurt him, it truly did, to return home after one of his rendevous with the devil to see the love and admiration for him in his wife's eyes. Each time on his return, he was renewed. He vowed, time and time again that it would not continue, that he would end the long lasting affair between him and this woman. Yet, his regular 'business meetings' ceased to desist, but continued with increased vigour and passion.  
  
I have to stop thinking about this, it was for the best, he urged himself, but his mind continued completely ignoring his struggle to gain control of his own thoughts. Once again he was forced into a matrix of horrible pictures, sounds, screams and terror, all bounded by his own recent memories.  
  
He played over the conversation in his mind several times over the past 20 minutes of tree lined road. The sound of the telephone at work, his wife's calm tense voice, "Draco, I know." That was all he had heard, the rest fell on death ears.  
  
He had needed hopelessly to find a way to make her forgive him, and this seemed to be it. "Please, give me one last chance, I promise I'll make it up to you." This cliché, so overused, so meaningless was all he had left. Yet his world forgave, with conditions he needed desperately to fulfill.  
  
"Honey, are you sure you need me to do this?" he had asked, dread prominent over his lingering courage depicted in every word uttered. She had just stared, blank eyed, at, yet past him with immense concentration on the wall behind him, lost in thought, he could only hope waiting to be found.  
  
With that, he had touched his lips to her's, not expecting any response, just needing the closeness. She was unresponsive, unmoving, cold and quite uninterested as he had expected.  
  
He had pulled up to her family's cabin, for he expected to find her here. He knew her ways, her entire self. He soon got his first glimpse of her exquisite beauty and flaming red hair through the old wooden windows of the cabin. He took a sharp, painful breath at the thought of the task ahead.  
  
The crescent moon covered by fleeting clouds set ghostly shadows at his feet as he approached the damp steps, veranda and door to his devil's lair.  
  
She was so divine, the mark of true beauty, such a pity. He could still see it, so recent, so fresh, saved for eternity in memory.  
  
...Her eyes had told a story, a story he hadn't expected them to tell, one far from a fairly tale, it had been like she had no idea who. but that was impossible he assured himself. He had been given a task to complete, and complete it he must, he had no time to understand her story, how captivating and enlightening it may have been.  
  
The last of her he had seen were her hands, both just visible above the cold water, resembling how he imagined the feeling of multiple daggers stabbing repeatedly into the skin stretched over his seized flesh might feel. Hands, which had time and time again caressed, touched and embraced his being as signs of little less than love but great passion, hopelessly trying to grab anything in a futile attempt to save themselves and owner.  
  
His subconscious mind cautioned his eyes to search her right wrist for her distinguishing mark, the one thing that differed between the two. He remembered its precise position, its definite shape, he could see it clearly with his minds eye and so automatically came to the conclusion that it was hidden, concealed by the charm bracelet she always wore around her now pale wrist, symbolizing her bond with her other half as she so many times mentioned to him in what he needed so much to be the past, for that was the only thing that made sense, the only thing he would be willing to accept at this time.  
  
His grip around her still adored neck tightened, keeping her completely submerged, as his legs had squeezed her struggling, squirming body in an attempt to calm her.  
  
Warmth and life had slowly seeped from her body into the surrounding mass of cold and his awaiting being. Her legs had stopped their undying kicking as her hands, beloved to him, made one last grab at life before succumbing, falling below the surface in her final act of life signaling death. He had completed his task.  
  
"God! Help me!" he breathed hopelessly, speaking aloud for the first time of this unbelievable night. I can't keep thinking like this, I can't feel guilty. It was for the best. I need to believe that, I need to forget. "I need a drink." His second, as his mind worked to get some rational thoughts through.  
  
He was once again reminded of her as he slowly pulled off the main road, seeking the near by gas station. This was the place they usually stopped for refreshments, together. This was their stop, were they met. He parked along side another car facing opposite, quite familiar yet quite unexpected at this time, but his mind was far to preoccupied to make the connection.  
  
Still seated, he turned, taking in the sight of the run-down concession area, mind absorbed in thought, eyes unseeing. He stared as what he was facing came into focus; a flash of flaming red hair. He shook his head, closing his eyes momentarily. He had to be seeing things, it was impossible. Eyes still closed, he heard a familiar soothing voice quite near to him. He opened his eyes only to see a warm smile, luscious red lips and glowing eyes full of intentional seduction. Her right hand came up slowly, shaking it slightly producing the faint jingle of metallic charms before placing her hand on his car door, leaning into it, making visible her difference, her mark. Realization dawned as he forced his eyes to meet her face as she moistened her lips suggestively with her warm tongue, and spoke the words.  
  
"Looking for me?" 


End file.
